


I Would Normally Do This Kind of Thing

by misura



Category: Zoom (2006)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Summer started dating the captain of the football team, and Dylan started checking out Connor's ass.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Would Normally Do This Kind of Thing

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Connor/Dylan, they seemed to be the only sane people here - makes is a good idea to stick together._

Summer started dating the captain of the football team, and Dylan started checking out Connor's ass.

He didn't think it was a matter of cause and effect, really. More like a happy coincidence; nobody got hurt this way, and everybody was happy, and Connor was probably going to be terribly not impressed if Dylan snuck up on him with a rose, even if he'd pretend that he was.

Of course, Connor had seemed friendly enough after Connor's snuck up on him with the intention to punch him the face, but, well, different time, different place and a different Connor.

In this time and place, and with this Connor, Dylan figured he was going to need some sort of plan.

 

" - and then there's the mall thing," Jack said. Jack wasn't the official leader of them team, but he was the oldest and he'd done this before - admittedly with some not so great results, but it really hadn't been his fault any more than killing all members of the original Zenith team except for his brother had been Connor's. "Anyone want to do the mall thing? Not all at once, please."

"Mall food sucks," Tucker said.

"Cheerleading practice," Summer said, which probably meant she had a date.

"Boring," Cindy said.

"I can go," Grant said. "Are they handing out free stuff?"

"Dude," Tucker said. "They want a superhero, not some - "

"Connor, Dylan, you're on. Great. Well, that's everything taken care of then."

"What are you implying, fattie?" Grant asked. "I was in the superhero business before you were even born."

"Yeah. It shows."

"Kids these days. No respect."

 

Dylan didn't know how Connor could walk around in public and not have people throw themselves at him. Dylan didn't because, well, it would be stupid, but it wasn't as if he didn't _want_ to.

People often wanted stupid things, after all. Look at Summer.

"Hungry?" Connor asked, and Dylan imagined him naked.

People often _thought_ stupid things, too, clearly. "Uh, sure. I could eat." Whatever it would take to keep Connor to himself a little bit longer. On a stage, saying a few things about the new mall and the new action figures and the new comic and the plans for a movie it just wouldn't be the same. He'd need to _share_ Connor, there.

Connor smiled, briefly. Probably hadn't heard Dylan thinking, although you never knew.

 

There were no free TVs or even toasters, but they both got an action figure ('signed, if you want it,' their hostess joked, and they'd both laughed politely, as if they hadn't heard that one about a hundred times before) and a can of Coca Cola, which sponsored the event.

Nobody had asked Connor what it had felt like to be a psychotic murderer, which was always good.

Someone was waving a comic, and Connor went to sign it - as you did, when you were a superhero, especially one the government didn't quite approve of, after you'd more or less told them where to stuff their secret base _and_ their Gamma-13 equipment.

Dylan enjoyed the view - Connor's red leather pants were _tight_. Possibly a little too much; when the trouble started, he only noticed it as Connor did, turning around with an expression of mild concern, which quickly turned to mild alarm. Which turned to ... something else. Something that looked like fear.

Good thing the cavalry was already right there.

 

"Do it!" Dylan yelled, manfully ignoring the small part of him that wanted to just curl up into a quiet corner and whimper. They were in a mall, getting chased (cornered, actually) by a mob of alien creatures; there simply weren;t any quiet corners available right now.

Connor shook his head. "Can't."

"Think of them as aliens." They _were_ , as far as Dylan was concerned.

Connor flashed him a grin. Dylan decided it wasn't really an appropriate time to picture him naked, although maybe the endorphine would help when they'd get torn to shreds. Make it hurt less. "The blue ones?"

Blue aliens were cuddly furballs who wanted nothing more than to have their pictures taken with famous superheroes and, for some reason, the Eiffel tower. They also loved chipolata ice cream, green tea and snowglobes. "The green ones," Dylan said.

Green aliens were kind of slimy. In both senses of the word. They liked to jump on people, and they were also kind of immune to Connor's sonic blasts. They simply weren't solid enough to be bothered by them.

There were red ones, too, but they seemed to think Connor was destined to be their evil overlord, so they'd all more or less agreed to never talk about the red aliens.

"Can't," Connor said. And Dylan had been there when he'd blasted his own brother, nearly killed him, actually, if they hadn't intervened, and sure, Connor wasn't that person anymore, but still.

"They'll tear us apart. You have to."

"Call - " Connor started saying, and then there was a _whoosh_ and a _bang_ and the sound of someone hitting the floor, and Connor's eyes showed just a hint of red as he punched the air directly in front of him, which was probably not good, except that he was doing exactly what Dylan had been wanting him to do for what felt like hours now, so it seemed kind of a bad time to complain. "Jack!"

 

Another lesson learned: being able to run at the speed of light wasn't really all that useful when dealing with a crowd.

Plus: fangirls were scary.

"Aw, man, some guys have all the luck," Tucker said, to whom girls were still an intriguing mystery. "Why doesn't that ever happen when _I_ go to open something?"

"I doubt whether you could run fast enough," Grant said.

"How's Jack?" Connor asked, looking guilty and worried. Dylan was a bad person for imagining him wearing that same expression asking about Dylan.

"Concussion."

"Okay."

"No," Grant said. "That's your codename, see? So when I say 'concussion', you're supposed to assume I'm addressing you by your codename, and then we can have a comical misunderstanding."

"Hilarious," Summer said.

 

Jack got better and joked about getting old and Connor commented he'd always been clumsy and called him 'Jackie', and Dylan went to shop for groceries and ended up exiting the supermarket through an emergency exit while invisible, because whatever had happened at the mall was clearly contagious.

Until Summer, he'd never really thought or worried about girls, but now he spotted them just about everywhere and the scary thing was that you just couldn't tell which the scary ones were until they were chasing you past the dairy and the bakery.

Cindy came and rescued him that time. He wished it had been Connor, but Connor was a grown-up like Dylan; he knew people might get hurt even if you were being careful. Cindy was nine and immortal and invulnerable and still halfway convinced the rest of the world was, too.

 

"You know, if you keep staring at his ass, you might miss something," Summer said, and Dylan thought _'empath, you idiot!'_ and was sort of glad she wasn't a telepath.

He looked up just in time to catch Connor's gaze. "Uh." He was probably blushing. He didn't even know if Connor was gay; sure, he'd never had a girlfriend, like Jack, but what did that mean, anyway?

Dylan'd had a girlfriend for a while, and look where he was now.

"At your face, mostly," Summer said.

"I still - "

"Marksman," Summer said. "And sometimes Daravia. Mostly Marksman, though."

 

"So," Dylan said, "how is this going to work?"

His parents weren't going to react well. One of his dad's most prized possessions was a special edition collecting The Death of Captain Zoom.

"You, me, a flying saucer, a trip to Wendy's and a movie?" Connor suggested, sounding like he'd never done this before either, which was very well possible, considering.

The flying saucer hadn't really been very operational yet in the old days.

"Sounds like a plan." Sounded like a _date_.


End file.
